Nov 30, 2023 5:16 pm
Trade Era 1223, Day 91
Celestial Voyager, Ladon IV orbit
Mariella stood in the narrow corridor of the starship, her black eyes wide with awe as she observed the utilitarian marvel of space travel. The hum of machinery reverberated through the metallic walls, and the scent of oil and metal hung in the air. The ship's interior, far from the sleek and polished aesthetics of luxury cruisers, was a testament to functionality and practicality.
As Mariella navigated the cramped passageways, heavy blast doors clanged shut behind her. Switches and levers surrounded her like relics from an industrial era long past and not seen in planetary installations. Small screens and lights displayed vital information in black and green hues, a stark contrast to the vivid colors of her home planet and her personal tablet.
The claustrophobic space was dimly lit, wires crisscrossing above her head like a chaotic web. Pipes ran along the walls, and grating underfoot added to the symphony of mechanical sounds. Instead of the sleek interfaces she had imagined, the systems were crude, favoring durability over high-tech elegance. It was a scene of controlled chaos, a symphony of machinery working in unison.
Despite the apparent ruggedness, Mariella found herself marveled by it all. The very essence of space travel, stripped of unnecessary extravagance, resonated with her mining roots. Each creak, every flicker of a black and green screen spoke of a vessel that had weathered the challenges of the cosmos.
She approached the cockpit, where the pilot manned the analog controls with practiced efficiency. The view through the reinforced glass was a canvas of stars, a sight that sent shivers down Mariella's spine. The enormity of space stretched out before her, and the realization that she was no longer confined to the dusty surface of Ladon IV filled her with a profound sense of liberation.
"This is something else," Mariella whispered, her voice lost in the hum of the ship's engines.
The pilot, a seasoned spacer with a weathered face, nodded without taking his eyes off the controls. "Space is unforgiving, but it has its own beauty. These ships may not be pretty, but they get the job done."
Mariella leaned against a bulkhead, her gaze fixed on the star-studded expanse beyond. In that moment, surrounded by the utilitarian grace of the spacecraft, she felt a connection to the vast unknown that transcended the confines of her miner's background. Space, with all its complexities and wonders, stretched out before her, and Mariella couldn't help but marvel at the journey she had embarked upon.
Trade Era 1223, Day 291
Celestial Voyager, New Jordan orbit
Two hundred days adrift in the cosmic sea had transformed Mariella's perspective. Her once-sturdy mining boots now carried the dust of a couple distant planets, and her black eyes held the reflections of countless stars. The Celestial Voyager had become both her vessel and her home, each creak and hum a familiar melody in the symphony of space.
One day, as Mariella was studying the star charts in the common area, Captain Valeria Zaytsev approached. Her grizzled expression softened into a rare smile.
"Mariella," she said, her voice carrying the weight of experience, "you've proven yourself more than capable on this journey. The crew respects you, and frankly, so do I."
Mariella looked up from the star charts, her curiosity piqued. "Captain?"
Captain Zaytsev motioned for her to follow, and they entered a quieter section of the ship. The captain's eyes met Mariella's, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond forged through the days among the stars.
"I've been thinking," the captain began, her tone measured. "We're a tight-knit crew, and we could use someone with your skills on a more permanent basis. How would you feel about a crew position, Mariella? Your salary would be fair, but there's an opportunity for more."
Mariella's mind buzzed with a mix of surprise and excitement. A crew position, a permanent place among the stars—it was an offer she hadn't anticipated.
"More?" Mariella echoed, her brows furrowed.
Captain Zaytsev leaned against a bulkhead, her gaze fixed on the distant stars visible through a small viewport. "Speculative trading," she explained. "We often encounter unique goods and opportunities on our journeys. With your knack for haggling and understanding of the markets, you could engage in trading ventures during our stops. It's a chance to complement your income and bring something extra. You can be my apprentice."
Celestial Voyager, Ladon IV orbit
Mariella stood in the narrow corridor of the starship, her black eyes wide with awe as she observed the utilitarian marvel of space travel. The hum of machinery reverberated through the metallic walls, and the scent of oil and metal hung in the air. The ship's interior, far from the sleek and polished aesthetics of luxury cruisers, was a testament to functionality and practicality.
As Mariella navigated the cramped passageways, heavy blast doors clanged shut behind her. Switches and levers surrounded her like relics from an industrial era long past and not seen in planetary installations. Small screens and lights displayed vital information in black and green hues, a stark contrast to the vivid colors of her home planet and her personal tablet.
The claustrophobic space was dimly lit, wires crisscrossing above her head like a chaotic web. Pipes ran along the walls, and grating underfoot added to the symphony of mechanical sounds. Instead of the sleek interfaces she had imagined, the systems were crude, favoring durability over high-tech elegance. It was a scene of controlled chaos, a symphony of machinery working in unison.
Despite the apparent ruggedness, Mariella found herself marveled by it all. The very essence of space travel, stripped of unnecessary extravagance, resonated with her mining roots. Each creak, every flicker of a black and green screen spoke of a vessel that had weathered the challenges of the cosmos.
She approached the cockpit, where the pilot manned the analog controls with practiced efficiency. The view through the reinforced glass was a canvas of stars, a sight that sent shivers down Mariella's spine. The enormity of space stretched out before her, and the realization that she was no longer confined to the dusty surface of Ladon IV filled her with a profound sense of liberation.
"This is something else," Mariella whispered, her voice lost in the hum of the ship's engines.
The pilot, a seasoned spacer with a weathered face, nodded without taking his eyes off the controls. "Space is unforgiving, but it has its own beauty. These ships may not be pretty, but they get the job done."
Mariella leaned against a bulkhead, her gaze fixed on the star-studded expanse beyond. In that moment, surrounded by the utilitarian grace of the spacecraft, she felt a connection to the vast unknown that transcended the confines of her miner's background. Space, with all its complexities and wonders, stretched out before her, and Mariella couldn't help but marvel at the journey she had embarked upon.
Trade Era 1223, Day 291
Celestial Voyager, New Jordan orbit
Two hundred days adrift in the cosmic sea had transformed Mariella's perspective. Her once-sturdy mining boots now carried the dust of a couple distant planets, and her black eyes held the reflections of countless stars. The Celestial Voyager had become both her vessel and her home, each creak and hum a familiar melody in the symphony of space.
One day, as Mariella was studying the star charts in the common area, Captain Valeria Zaytsev approached. Her grizzled expression softened into a rare smile.
"Mariella," she said, her voice carrying the weight of experience, "you've proven yourself more than capable on this journey. The crew respects you, and frankly, so do I."
Mariella looked up from the star charts, her curiosity piqued. "Captain?"
Captain Zaytsev motioned for her to follow, and they entered a quieter section of the ship. The captain's eyes met Mariella's, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond forged through the days among the stars.
"I've been thinking," the captain began, her tone measured. "We're a tight-knit crew, and we could use someone with your skills on a more permanent basis. How would you feel about a crew position, Mariella? Your salary would be fair, but there's an opportunity for more."
Mariella's mind buzzed with a mix of surprise and excitement. A crew position, a permanent place among the stars—it was an offer she hadn't anticipated.
"More?" Mariella echoed, her brows furrowed.
Captain Zaytsev leaned against a bulkhead, her gaze fixed on the distant stars visible through a small viewport. "Speculative trading," she explained. "We often encounter unique goods and opportunities on our journeys. With your knack for haggling and understanding of the markets, you could engage in trading ventures during our stops. It's a chance to complement your income and bring something extra. You can be my apprentice."
OOC:
What do you do?
