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Good, we’re on the same page then!”\n“Alright, shut up, lemme land this thing.”\n\nThe two cats spent the rest of the journey in silence; well, relative silence. The roar and clatter of the spacevan entering the gravitational pull of the small, pearlescent moon became deafening, even through the heavy cushions of their protective earwear. The force made everything in the ship rattle - someone who was less experienced than them might be panicking, afraid the whole thing was about to fall apart. But this shuttle was built of sturdier stuff than that.\nBill snuck glances at his co-pilot and partner. Bill was slight, with black-brown fur like burnt toast and pale yellow eyes. He kept himself well groomed, compared to the scraggly, older tabby cat. Orin really didn’t bother. But that was part of the older guy’s charm.\n\nThey were joking about sleeping with each other a [i]lot[/i] more than usual. It was a sort of indirect, oblique way of flirting. They were a hairs breadth away from fucking; they’d even started showering together to ‘save water’. \nIt was only a matter of time before one of them made a move on the other.\n\nBill put it out of his head and focused on the pale white expanse stretching out before them. They could already see their destination like a pockmark on the surface of Moon S1-21, otherwise a barren rock orbiting a planet that barely qualified as one. This was a routine maintenance check-up. Usually it just involved giving everything a once-over, filling out some forms and taking off again just in time for the Euros to clear. The EU-funded space programmes paid a hell of a lot better than most other gigs, not to mention better at maintaining their bases than others.\n\n“Requesting permission to land. Code 388 - 042.”\n“Code 001-520. Confirmed. You’re clear to land.”\nIt had gotten somewhat difficult to discern artificial voices from mortal ones, but you could still pick it out if you listened. Even over a low-fidelity connection there were telltale signs; the intonation could be a little bit more monotone, or the inflection might be just barely off. \n“Could you put us through to one of the staff?” Orin said. \n“They are not available at the moment,” the AI responded. “But you have already been granted full clearance to tour the whole facility.”\nOrin shot his co-pilot a look, and turned off the voice connection.\n“I swear, half the fuckin’ people they send out here just rely on the AI for everything. They try to blame it on anxiety or some shit.”\n“Weren’t you diagnosed with anxiety last year?”\n“Well that’s beside the point.”\n\nBill knew better than to push it further than that. Gently ribbing and flirting with the older guy was one thing, but when he started to get a bit more heated up, the younger cat clammed up rather than goad him into a shouting match. It was a little bit of a sensitive topic.\n\nOnce their VTOL craft had docked, a buggy was sent out to them, remote controlled by the look of it.\n“No welcoming party,” Orin sighed. “Not like the old days.”\n“They don’t have good bedside manner at this base, do they?” Bill checked the seams and seals on his re-breather suit as they prepared to decompress.\n“Seems that way. We could probably find some citations around that. Over-reliance on automation. Might earn a bit extra that way.”\n“Good shout…”\n\nThe atmosphere of space was as oppressively quiet as always, the hiss of their breath, the rush of their blood and the thump of their hearts becoming a deafening roar. As soon as they were aboard, the buggy’s ride was incredibly, navigating the craggy surfaces of Moon S1-21 as easily and gently as a well-maintained tramline. \n“We’re sorry no one is able to greet you at present.” The computerised voice was piped into the speakers inside their suits. “The personnel are currently either in a sleep-cycle or indisposed with projects.”\n“That’s what we figgered,” Orin said. “What’s yer name anyway?”\n“Severin is my name. I hope I will be able to be of assistance.”\n“You’ve got a good bedside manner for a computer,” Orin added.\n“I am not a diagnostic AI.”\n“He just means that you’re friendlier than some of the others we deal with,” Bill added. \n“That is what I understood. However, I wanted to clarify.”\nBill could sense Orin rolling his eyes behind the almost-opaque screen of his suit.\n\n[url=http://www.postybirb.com]Posted using PostyBirb[/url]","description_bbcode_parsed":"A pair of mechanics do a normal inspection.
Commission for Raizy
If you'd like to read this and other work early, head over to my Patreon!
All Routine
By Limewah
Commission for Raizy
18+
“Yer not being serious, are ya?”
“Of course not, this is just a hypothetical, lighten up!”
“I’m not that lonely, and even if I was I wouldn’t settle for you, you ugly little shit.”
“Hah! Good, we’re on the same page then!”
“Alright, shut up, lemme land this thing.”
The two cats spent the rest of the journey in silence; well, relative silence. The roar and clatter of the spacevan entering the gravitational pull of the small, pearlescent moon became deafening, even through the heavy cushions of their protective earwear. The force made everything in the ship rattle - someone who was less experienced than them might be panicking, afraid the whole thing was about to fall apart. But this shuttle was built of sturdier stuff than that.
Bill snuck glances at his co-pilot and partner. Bill was slight, with black-brown fur like burnt toast and pale yellow eyes. He kept himself well groomed, compared to the scraggly, older tabby cat. Orin really didn’t bother. But that was part of the older guy’s charm.
They were joking about sleeping with each other a lot more than usual. It was a sort of indirect, oblique way of flirting. They were a hairs breadth away from fucking; they’d even started showering together to ‘save water’.
It was only a matter of time before one of them made a move on the other.
Bill put it out of his head and focused on the pale white expanse stretching out before them. They could already see their destination like a pockmark on the surface of Moon S1-21, otherwise a barren rock orbiting a planet that barely qualified as one. This was a routine maintenance check-up. Usually it just involved giving everything a once-over, filling out some forms and taking off again just in time for the Euros to clear. The EU-funded space programmes paid a hell of a lot better than most other gigs, not to mention better at maintaining their bases than others.
“Requesting permission to land. Code 388 - 042.”
“Code 001-520. Confirmed. You’re clear to land.”
It had gotten somewhat difficult to discern artificial voices from mortal ones, but you could still pick it out if you listened. Even over a low-fidelity connection there were telltale signs; the intonation could be a little bit more monotone, or the inflection might be just barely off.
“Could you put us through to one of the staff?” Orin said.
“They are not available at the moment,” the AI responded. “But you have already been granted full clearance to tour the whole facility.”
Orin shot his co-pilot a look, and turned off the voice connection.
“I swear, half the fuckin’ people they send out here just rely on the AI for everything. They try to blame it on anxiety or some shit.”
“Weren’t you diagnosed with anxiety last year?”
“Well that’s beside the point.”
Bill knew better than to push it further than that. Gently ribbing and flirting with the older guy was one thing, but when he started to get a bit more heated up, the younger cat clammed up rather than goad him into a shouting match. It was a little bit of a sensitive topic.
Once their VTOL craft had docked, a buggy was sent out to them, remote controlled by the look of it.
“No welcoming party,” Orin sighed. “Not like the old days.”
“They don’t have good bedside manner at this base, do they?” Bill checked the seams and seals on his re-breather suit as they prepared to decompress.
“Seems that way. We could probably find some citations around that. Over-reliance on automation. Might earn a bit extra that way.”
“Good shout…”
The atmosphere of space was as oppressively quiet as always, the hiss of their breath, the rush of their blood and the thump of their hearts becoming a deafening roar. As soon as they were aboard, the buggy’s ride was incredibly, navigating the craggy surfaces of Moon S1-21 as easily and gently as a well-maintained tramline.
“We’re sorry no one is able to greet you at present.” The computerised voice was piped into the speakers inside their suits. “The personnel are currently either in a sleep-cycle or indisposed with projects.”
“That’s what we figgered,” Orin said. “What’s yer name anyway?”
“Severin is my name. I hope I will be able to be of assistance.”
“You’ve got a good bedside manner for a computer,” Orin added.
“I am not a diagnostic AI.”
“He just means that you’re friendlier than some of the others we deal with,” Bill added.
“That is what I understood. However, I wanted to clarify.”
Bill could sense Orin rolling his eyes behind the almost-opaque screen of his suit.
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