The alarm blared at an ungodly hour of the night. At least it was night aboard the Pisces III, or as Captain Cameron had dubbed his beloved vessel, “his third princess”. She was circling Saturn on a lazy trajectory, like a tin can floating on the Mississippi: a tin can with the echoing power of a gun going off.
Bruce sat straight up his cot, clonked his head on the upper bunk and fell back against his pillow with a groan.
Porter, the upper level occupant, tipped his head over the side with a curious look.
Bruce swung his legs over the side, “Good morning, P.O.” he said cheerfully to the ten-year-old boy above him. Porter smiled back and signed Good morning.
“RISE AND SHINE, BOYS!” Cameron yelled over the loudspeaker, “And Marley.”
“Thank you!” said a girl’s voice in the room next to Bruce.
“TIME TO WAKE UP WE’VE GOT AN ORDER.”
“God, would ya shut up?” yelled Leon from across the hall.
“Son of a bitch, what time is it?” said his twin, Noel.
In the course of ten minutes, the meager crew of Pisces III was sequestered in the briefing room, squeezed in tight.
Captain Cameron smiled at his yawning crew, “Sleep well, boys?”
If looks could kill.
None of them were older than twenty, already rugged with history, and fit from a life on the streets before stepping foot on his Third Princess. But in this economy, a boy took whatever he could find.
He sucked on his teeth, “No doubt you’ve heard it on the news, about the Reagan Colony. Damn shame, but the mourning period is over and we hit the jackpot. Clean-up. The whole colony.”
Mercutio, one of the eldest, choked on his water, “The whole colony?”
Porter signed frantically How big is it?
Leon pointed, “That’s ISG’s job, why the hell are we doing it?”
“ISG is currently busy with the farmer’s rebellion on Mars. So we got the deal of a lifetime.”
Bruce slipped in next to Porter, “How much are we getting?”
Cameron grinned, “Triple.”
His boys leaned forward. Noel asked, “Triple what?”
Marley, their communications officer, stepped over and she leaned against the table with a wicked grin, “Triple what they pay their own for clean-up,” she rubbed her hands together, as though she could feel the crinkling bills in her hands already, “Boys, we do this, we’re set for the next couple of years. Food, maintenance, whatever, it’s covered.”
“Holy shit…” Bruce chuckled.
Porter tapped him on the shoulder and motioned, I want to come.
Bruce shook his head and ruffled the boy’s hair, “Not this time, buddy. You’ll stay here and run the com systems with Marley.”
“We’ll send you a postcard,” Noel winked. Porter stuck out his bottom lip and moved his fingers, No fair.
“What are we cleaning? Plague? Alien invasion?” asked Mercutio.
“Havn’t you been listening to the news?” Cameron swatted him with a rolled-up paper, “Reagan succumbed to an infestation months ago. They got all the survivors out, and they say whatever the thing was, it’s long been dead by now without a food source.”
“So, virus or alien?”
“Alien.”
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Could you tell that I'm still reeling from a weekend of Dead Space 2. It was quite an experience...
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