Ship's Interface

'Inta does the Dallas': Part 1

"All teams, status check," Clay Compaan called into his headset comm device, watching several monitors in his ad hoc control room. The furniture in the small passenger cabin had all been pushed against one wall, and the bed flipped on its side to clear enough room for the several pop-up tables covered with communications and monitoring equipment. Two of his men sat at the tables, controlling the various video feeds from the team's body cams, giving Compaan a first-hand view of everything his teams saw.

"Team One spotters in position in hangars D1 and D2, strike team ready," The call back came from Team One.

"Team Two, spotters, and strike team are ready in hangars D3 and D4," another voice called out over the encrypted comms channel.

"Team Three, everyone's ready in D5 and D6. The next team reported.

Compaan's anxiety started to creep up as an uncomfortably long period passed before Team Four reported in. "Team Four in D7 and D8, spotters in position, strike team one minute out," came the report from the final team.

"Move your ass! We need to be ready to execute as soon as they are spotted," Compaan hissed into his microphone. Irritated, he ran his fingers through his shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair, sweeping it back out of his eyes.

Forty-seven seconds later, "Team four, spotters and strike team in position," came the breathless report over the comms.

"Stay alert. Inbound docking will begin in five minutes," Compaan informed his teams. Now that all teams were in position, he relaxed and sipped his coffee as he stood behind the two seated men, watching the monitors intently.

He had received the call for this job less than a week ago; his contact in the Organization said that Cortez wanted a shuttle that had arrived at Penrose Station, so naturally, they contacted Compaan. He had worked hard for the last two decades to cement his reputation as the best hijacker in society's seedier circles. Throughout his career, he had stolen hundreds of ships, many in tighter security areas than he was now facing aboard the Dallas.

He was told that his target was a seventy-meter shuttle of unusual and unmistakable design with tech that Cortez wanted. And what Cortez wanted, he usually got. Compaan had to scramble to get everything into place quickly, but he wasn't known as the best for nothing.

Compaan's plan was pretty straightforward: being a seventy-meter shuttle, they would be assigned to one of the "D" class hangars. He would post a spotter at both port and starboard hangar doors, who would signal the strike team assigned to that hangar, relaying where it would be berthed. As soon as the shuttle door opened, the strike team would rush it, overtake and incapacitate or kill the crew, and race out of the hangar before the ship's security could react. Then, the strike team would rendezvous with his carrier, waiting a couple of light years outside the system for pickup. He had executed this exact plan on multiple occasions and had little doubt as to the odds of his success.

On the monitors, he watched the Dallas Hangar crew prepare to open the doors for new arrivals. "Everyone at the ready," Compaan called out on the comms. The atmospheric force barriers shimmered as they were activated, and the doors opened to the hangars. Through the various monitors, he watched the slow parade of shuttles entering the eight levels of hangars, searching for his quarry.

*******

Several hours passed, and none of the ships that had docked so far even slightly resembled the description given, and he was beginning to grow impatient. Compaan took a breath to calm himself, knowing that the queue to dock was largely a function of when the fare was purchased, and supposedly, the target had purchased their berth late. It stood to reason that they would be among the last to arrive.

"Spotters and teams begin rotating posts on a rolling basis," he ordered his teams. He wanted to ensure that no one noticed that people were loitering for hours in the same spot, so he had his teams swap positions, a few people at a time, to avoid detection.

More time passed, and there was still no sign of his target. The ferries were usually very efficient at loading and unloading, and it usually only took about eight hours or so at each port of call to complete the onboarding. They were now closing in on seven and a half hours; did he miss them?

"Strike teams, send an additional spotter to each hanger, and verify the target is not already on board," Compaan ordered. He was running out of time; once the doors were closed, it would only be a short while later that the ferry would head out of the system and jump to FTL, and his window of opportunity would close.

Several minutes later, "Negative, target is not yet on board," The reports came from the additional spotters. Compaan watched the last ship enter the hangar, and soon after, the hangar doors began to close. "Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his headset to the floor. "Recall all teams, now!" he growled at one of the two men running the comm setup, then stormed out of the tiny passenger cabin and into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. Anger and frustration twisted his face into a scowl as he looked for a nearby bar to get a drink. It was unlikely he had bad information; his contact in Penrose Control confirmed they had left for the ferry. Where the fuck were they?

******

When the docking clamps cleared, June activated the gravity drive and slowly steered away from their slip at Penrose Station. She laid in a course to rendezvous with the ferry 'Dallas', and they were on their way.

Will sat at the console next to June's, Ben sat at one of the wider stations along the back of the bridge, while Interface stood between Will and June, a hand on each of their shoulders, wearing nothing but a smile on her lips.

"We'll arrive at the coordinates for the docking queue in about forty-five minutes," June said aloud. "Once there we'll be given instructions on where and when to dock." They sat back and enjoyed the quiet ride to the 'Dallas'.

On the sensor array readout, the 'Dallas' appeared as a large dot surrounded by a swarm of smaller dots, both maintenance vessels and ships looking to dock, each with a name displayed with their transponder information. Seeing the 'Dallas' through the viewport was an entirely different experience. When they were still far from it, the 'Dallas' appeared deceptively small and appeared to twinkle. But as they drew closer, it grew impressively large, and as they were coming up to it broadside, the sheer enormity became apparent as its length slowly filled the entire viewport.

The transponder details for the Dallas said that it was five thousand meters by five thousand meters, tall and wide, with an impressive length of twenty kilometers. However, seeing it with their own eyes was another thing entirely. Up close, it seemed to stretch on forever; a thousand external floodlights and windows illuminated the surface of its blocky exterior, aerodynamics ignored, the designers knowing it would never dip into a gravity well far enough to contact atmosphere.

The front half of the behemoth was completely peppered with the light of thousands of cabin windows looking out into space, but a large portion of the rear half of the 'Dallas' was an open honeycomb of hangar bays of varying sizes to accommodate ships as small as one hundred meters or less or as large as five thousand meters in length. From their place in the docking queue, they could see that three of the four enormous hangars already contained ships that would easily be considered huge on their own, swallowed up and parked neatly, each in its hangar.

As they marveled at the enormity of the 'Dallas', a call came over the comms. "Come in Nestia; this is Dallas Control. Do you read?"

"This is the Nestia," June replied. "We read you." Interface started bouncing on the balls of her bare feet in excitement.

"Be advised, you are next in queue. We have you making berth in Maintenance Bay 'B'. When signaled, please follow the flight path provided, then hold position and shutdown engines fifty meters from the bay. You will then be brought on board by the ferry pilot using tractor beams."

"Acknowledged, Control," June answered.

They only had to wait five more minutes, then Dallas Control called again. "Nestia, this is Dallas Control. Please proceed to Maintenance Bay 'B'. Welcome aboard," The Dallas Controller said.

"Thank you, Control. We are proceeding," June responded cheerfully. She piloted the Nestia along the provided flight path, which took them alongside the Dallas. As they passed the lines of ships waiting their turn to dock, they could see many ships already docked--well, over a thousand in total--of various makes, models, and sizes. They passed the last of the larger hangars and began stationkeeping just outside the Maintenance Bay 'B' Dock. Once their motion matched the behemoth they were docking with, June cut the gravity drive, and the silver shimmer of the Nestia's hull reverted to bright white.

"This is the Maintenance Bay 'B' Pilot; Nestia, are you ready for docking?" Came another voice over the comms.

"Roger Pilot, our drive is shut down; we're all yours. Take us in as you please," June called over comms. Ben chuckled at the double-entendre-sounding reply, and Interface turned to wink at him.

The pilot was very skilled; they didn't feel anything when the tractor beams engaged and the Nestia was pulled gently in, bow first. The maintenance bay ran straight through from the port to starboard side of the ferry with berthing spots running along both walls, and after the Nestia passed through the atmospheric force barrier, the pilot deftly swung the Nestia's stern ninety degrees to align her in a berthing spot close to the hangar doors. Still suspended by the tractor beams, the Nestia's stern was then backed close to the wall, facing forward to the Dallas' bow. As June extended the landing legs, they were placed softly on the hangar bay floor, dead center in their assigned berth.

The pilot came back on the comms. "Nestia, tractor beams are off, and the magnetic clamps have been engaged. I would recommend waiting until we are under way before disembarking, as the maintenance bay will be very busy right up until we close the doors before departure. After that, you are free to come and go as you need. Welcome aboard."

"Very smooth landing. Thank you, Pilot. Nestia, Out." June leaned back and addressed the group. "Well, we're here. Now a short wait, and then we can go explore. Any ideas on how we could pass the time?" she said with a sly grin. Interface's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

****

The airlock door melted open, and white metal poured down from the bottom of the door until it reached the hangar floor, shaping itself to form a short set of stairs. The group exited Nestia's faux shuttle area, led by Interface, who gawked in wide-eyed wonder at the hive of activity.

Maintenance Bay 'B' was ridiculously large, fitting the general oversized proportions of the 'Dallas' itself; it was roughly one hundred and fifty meters wide and ran the entire five thousand meter width of the 'Dallas', with large hangar doors at either end. Several hundred one person maintenance pods were parked among a dozen larger craft along one wall with room for another hundred, at least half of them being attended to in either some stage of repair, refit, or refueling. Several elevators were in operation, bringing parts or personnel up and down from the maintenance shops to the next level. Midway down the bay, they spotted the sign indicating the location of the 'Dallas' intra-ship tram system, so they headed in that direction.

"There must be at least a hundred crew members assigned to this maintenance bay alone," Interface said, drinking the sight in as they walked.

June put an arm around her waist. "According to her registry, the 'Dallas' has a crew complement of over five thousand people. Mechanics, engineers, officers, and passenger hospitality staff."

Interface smiled at the thought. "And how many passengers do you think are currently on board?" she said, eager to meet them all.

"Hmm. Let me think," June began, running some numbers in her head. "With as many ships we saw docking and already docked, I'd say ten thousand people boarded with their ships, then probably another twenty-five thousand who booked individual passage in cabins. The ferry system may be one of the slower options for interstellar travel, but by any measure, it is definitely the most efficient."

"And probably the most fun," Will chimed in. "Many travelers spend weeks, if not months, on board, so Inter-Planetary Ferry Services spends a great deal of effort on passenger comfort and entertainment. A lot of people book round-trip tickets just to enjoy the amenities."

As they walked through the bay towards the tram entrance, Interface gave the maintenance personnel they passed a gregarious smile and waved, who couldn't help but smile and wave back to the bubbly silver girl.

Making it to the tram entrance, they stepped through to a small lobby, the din of activity silenced as the double doors slid closed behind them. Ben pressed the call button for the tram, then slid close to Interface. "I know how much you love trams and elevators," he said with a smile. "But you're going to have to behave." Then he gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, you think so, brat," she said, pulling Ben close and giving him a passionate kiss just as the tram doors opened to a group of surprised maintenance workers. She broke the kiss and winked at them, and they all smiled as they left the tram. They saw this kind of behavior a lot from passengers, which amused them. June, Will, Ben, and Interface took their places in the tram, and the doors closed. After studying the display control for a moment, Will pressed the button for the main concourse.

The tram accelerated gently until the car zipped along the tramway, heading towards the heart of the ship. As they sped along, views of other hangars flashed through the clear tram window, the hangars full of ships and activity. Then, the tram sped further into the interior tunnels, lights flying by at regular intervals, punctuated by small stations leading to passenger cabins.

The car made a couple of stops as other passengers called the tram, and soon, it was full of smiling new arrivals all heading to the Main Concourse. Interface smiled as she soaked in the exuberant feelings of other passengers, chatting amongst themselves, each eagerly anticipating what awaited them.

The tram car slowed and stopped, and a chime sounded as the doors opened, indicating their arrival. They all stepped out, and the Concourse opened before them.

The Main Concourse was a wide promenade with numerous walking paths, benches at regular intervals, and potted plants of various varieties, giving it the feeling of a garden. Several water features, ponds, and fountains were dotted around the Concourse. The concourse had two levels: shops and restaurants lined both sides of the ground level and the mezzanine above.

A couple of footbridges spanned the gap, giving passengers a vantage point to view the expansive space. The tall ceiling above the mezzanine boasted a holographic display of the view of the stars as currently seen outside. As they stood at the entrance, Ben noticed that the holographic ceiling showed the stars streaming by; red shifted into rainbows as they streamed across the ceiling. It reminded him fondly of the times he and Interface cuddled on the bridge of the Nestia, watching the stars stream past, and he smiled.

Interface stood with the others at the entrance to the Concourse and was mesmerized by the sights and sounds of activity and life in the cavernous open space. At least a thousand people were crowded in, many of them new arrivals, who were gawking at the spectacle as well, all finding pleasant distractions to occupy them during their long voyage. People were sitting and chatting on benches next to the water features, at small bistros eating a meal; there were people inside bars watching a sports game, drinking and cheering; almost every pleasant activity imaginable was represented and enjoyed all along the concourse.

She found the people themselves to be even more interesting. Penrose Station had been a backwater port, basically servicing the local star systems and their population. While not heterogeneous, it didn't hold a candle to the seemingly infinite variety of species that used the interstellar ferry system.

She spotted several species she had seen on Penrose. A few large bear-like Urarc men and women were sipping tea and conversing quietly at a cafe. Several of the lizard-like Caimars were sitting on stools too tall for them at a bar, yelling excitedly at a hologram of a sports game being projected on the wall behind the bar.

But there were so many more species she spotted that she didn't have names for: There were folks that mostly resembled humans but were shades of bright blue, green, or red, with horns and keratin-covered ridges on their cheekbones and jaw lines. There were several different insectoid species, some seemingly a close blend of human and insect aspects, while others were entirely insectoid, some spider-like, a few resembling centipedes, and others with brightly colored carapaces like enormous ladybugs.

Tall and short, familiar and exotic, the panoply of beings coexisted and enjoyed all the distractions the ship's hospitality had to offer. Interface drank it all in; the warm, pleasant atmosphere of a thousand beings enjoying simple pleasures was intoxicating. She watched the crowds pass by one another, and as Inta watched, she spotted a couple of figures in the crowd.

One reason they caught her eye was that they literally stood out in the crowd, seven and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders, each with four arms, their hands gesturing animatedly as they conversed. Their skin shimmered in multicolored hues, slightly iridescent; the skin on their bare arms seemed to shimmer against the backdrop of their plain, thick robes. Their faces were flat and broad, without a nose protruding from their kind smiling faces, their coarse hair sticking up and waving slightly as they moved their heads like gathered bundles of wheat. They swayed gently back and forth as they walked like willow trees in the wind.

As she watched the two, Interface's mind was suddenly overtaken by a flash of an old memory. She was standing at the entrance to a garden, very similar to the Concourse, but it was open to the bright blue sky, the sun beaming down from overhead. Tall, gleaming white buildings and round spires surround the garden--some sort of metropolis. She wasn't alone in the garden; a multitude of familiar faces surrounded her, all looking at her, beaming with love and adoration. In the background of her memory, the garden contained a grove of trees with slightly iridescent branches swaying gracefully in the breeze.

"Interface, are you okay? You kind of left for a minute," Ben said, holding her arm, a look of gentle concern on his face. As quickly as it hit her, the memory swiftly faded back into the dormant portions of her mind.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she smiled. "I'm good. I'm starting to remember things. Stuff from my past."

Everyone gathered close around her. "That's a good sign, right? You're finally growing back into the parts of your matrix containing memories," June asked.

"Yes, it's a very good sign," Interface pulled her three lovers close. "You're all helping me heal and grow again." From the group hug, Interface looked over their shoulders and glanced over the crowd, but the tall figures were no longer in sight.

*****

They walked through the crowded paths of the Concourse without an objective, taking in the sights and sounds of the crowd and shops lining the way.