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Recent History of Quadrant: Adamant 4

Page: 1/14

Written By dumbluck, Terran C, Wardad and Tesco Samoa


Naxiv was having a bad day. They had just deployed to the Canus sector of the Adamant 4 quadrant (already affectionately called Adam's Mutt by some, Naxiv included). Upon deployment, everyone in the Vaxin Expeditionary Force had been assigned a living space and a work detail. Most everyone had a living space on the planet below, but not Naxiv. He had to live in one of the temporary (and very cramped) Hab units. It orbited not far from where he now was working. His work detail was in the construction of a system of orbital construction platforms. If there was anything Naxiv hated more than cramped living quarters, it was space construction.

"Why couldn't I have been assigned to a nice organics farm", he muttered to himself as he tried for a third time to align the support beam up with the rest of the platform framework. He inched his forward thrusters up a bit. "Dammit, missed again." He was struggling to overcome the inertia of the beam and bring it back into position for another try when his comm chirped, "Naxiv, you worthless hunk of space rubbish, haven't you attached that beam yet??? I've got 3 teams waiting to get started on the ventral section, and they're all waiting on YOU!!!"

Ah, yes. Just when he thought that his day couldn't get any worse, he'd reported to his work detail to find that his supervisor was "Hardnose" Hadix. There was no love lost between them ever since that "incident" on Ortega 3, some 7 years previous. "If you'd just get off my back for 5 minutes, Hardnose, I'd have gotten this beam and three more connected", Naxiv grumbled under his breath as he carefully aligned the beam for his fourth try. Just as he activated his jets, his comm screamed in his ear, "What in Nivax's Comet is the hold up down there?!?!?!"

Hadix watched as the beam missed the mark yet again. He was so raging mad he felt like his head was about to explode inside his helmet. "Damn that Naxiv!" he screamed to noone in particular, "We're already behind schedule!"

--

"We're already behind schedule. The Platform 1 framework has yet to be completed, and the schedule calls for starting the framework for Platform 2 in 8 days."

"So, Xidan, what you're saying, basically, is that we are already off to a bad start."

"Not entirely, sir." Commadore Xidan managed to maintain a perfectly smooth hover, despite how much her jets were quivering. Admiral Daxin Cavix was not known to believe in the addage, "Don't kill the messenger because the news is bad". Not that Cavix had killed anyone, of coarse. He was known, however, to be rather liberal with handing out demotions. "The main colony forces have settled in quite nicely, all our production facilities are online, and already Mineral production is above expected levels." It's always nice to have some good news to help offset the bad, she thought to herself. Even if none of the good news is under her perview.

Cavix hovered perfectly still behind his workstation. From here he could access information on any aspect of his command almost instantaneously. At the moment, however, all his concentration was focused upon his Construction Minister. He watched as her attitude shifted slightly to the left, then as she quickly corrected it. After a moment more of silent vivisection, he released her from his gaze and replied, "That's all well and good, but we need those Platforms operational on schedule. If you have to, have Commadore Vacix pull some workers out of the Organics Farm, and you put them to work on the platforms. I don't care how you do it, Xidan, just get those Platforms online! Dismissed."

Cavix watched impassively as Xidan tried not to rush out the door. Of coarse, Vacix will throw a fit about losing production in our already weak area of Organics. Which he should; otherwise he wouldn't be a good Production Minister. Cavix sighed. It wasn't an ideal startup, but it could be worse. After all, the accursed Rage Collective could be just beyond the warppoint. Initial intelligence reports indicate that there is no Rage presence in this quadrant (yet), but he won't know that for sure until he can send a scout craft out. "And we can't do that," Cavix mumbled to himself, "until we get those Platforms operational."

--

Naxiv finished packing his bag. He glanced once more at the tellex floating over the now empty bunk. "Naxiv Civix, E4, demoted to E3 due to substandard performance. Transfered to Organics Farm, Alpha Continent. Effective immediately." "Hardnose" had ranted and raved for 30 minutes about his "slow and sloppy workmanship" that would "probably all have to be reworked anyway". He had especially enjoyed telling him about the demotion, and had insisted on removing the rank slash himself.

"Yea, well, it was worth it to get out of this miserable place", Naxiv muttered, rubbing his chest where the rank slash had been. "And it was definately worth it to get out from under ol' Hardnose." He started towards the door, but misjudged the proper vector and smacked into the doorframe. For a moment he just hovered there, nursing both his bruised shoulder and his simmering frustrations. Then he stormed back to his bunk, grabbed the tellex, and ripped it into tiny little shreds.

As he floated out of the cloud of confetti, he smiled glumly, knowing how much of a pain in the jets it would be to clean all that paper out of the atmosphere scrubbers. Then he glanced at the wall-clock as he reached for his bag as it gently bumped into the far bulkhead. He put the bag over his shoulder and started for the door. Then it hit him. "0958! Oh no! The Transport!"

He jetted out the door and slammed his head into the upper doorjam. Cursing profusely and holding his now bleeding forehead, he rushed off towards the airlock, and arrived just in time to see the transport pull away from the hab unit. "Damn, Naxiv, you'll be late for your own funeral", Bevix, his former (well, soon to be former) hab-mate chuckled. Then he glanced at Naxiv's forehead, shook his head, and went back to his dinner. Naxiv stared dumbly out the small porthole; watching the transport disappear from view while blood oozed out from between his fingers.


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Written By dumbluck, Terran C, Wardad and Tesco Samoa

Copyright © by the author, posted with permission.

Published on: 2004-05-12 (13319 reads)

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