Grace: A Cyber-Western Serial - 2

Jess stared hard at the screen, trying not to see her own ghosty image superimposed over that of the officer. Her dreads, which had grown long from inattention since she'd had the ship, were heavy from sweat. Her face felt flushed. The engine room was not the coolest place on board, even when they hadn't been sitting powered down on a planet. She hoped her well-developed deltoids were as visible as her flushed face. Any show of strength out here in the void could only work to her advantage.

In response to the officer's "pretty lady" comment, however, Jess pursed her lips hard and switched over the 'com. At first nothing happened. Then, her first officer's pale, chisled face appeared.

"Val!" she shouted, "we're not harboring any fugitive Mutes on this ship are we?" There was, of course, no response, so she monkeyed up the ladder from the dimly lit engine room to the dimly lit main corridor and put on a full-out run to the bridge. She crossed the catwalk over the cargo bay, which was littered with the equipment of their trade: dollies and a landrover used to move supplies back to the ship.

Her footsteps reverberated as she ran, and she became aware of another of those crazy realizations that sometimes came in moments like this: Encased by the sound of her own movement and the rumbling of her ship out here in the void, she felt about as lonely as it was possible for a human being to feel, and immensely grateful she didn't have time to think about it.

After the catwalk, she entered the short corridor that connected the bridge pod to the main body of the ship, and soon smacked the button that caused the bridge door to hiss open. Not quite half the buttons on the control panel still lit up, but they provided enough light so whoever was piloting the ship could see what they were doing.