Draft Scene - Period Draper - A work in progress

“Delia stood in front of the doorway and shook as she began to realize the danger approaching. I called out to her, at the top of my lungs, to run. But her gaze was transfixed, unbreakable. As the vortex closed around me, I could not think of one other thing but the fear and helplessness that seemed to consume her as she watched me being wisked away. My survival was no longer an issue, my existence became meaningless. Delia was all that mattered. And no longer would we be together. The very last image of my one true universal soulmate would forever haunt me. I swore at that moment that somehow, someday I would find my way back to that very moment in time. This became my purpose.”

Guy removed a buckle from a canvass rig he was working on and placed it in the collection of items he’d retrieved so far from the wrecked ship. He continued with conviction.

“I’m not telling you I won’t help you Dingel, I’m just saying that as soon as we can get back to Rigel, my interests will be refocused on traversing the Bridge. Business is business; we have to get this shipment to our buyer. That we will do. But Rigel has the only Period Draper in this sector. I’ve got to use it before the Ganae reach the Stodium cluster and delete the old solar generations from the Logs.”

The goddamn Ganae, Dingel thought, lousy somesabitches. Their timing couldn’t be worse. He realised a synaptic operation initiating in the his subconsious, at levels 9 through 14, and re-directed awareness to that area. The logic processors in his virtual mind began analyzing the potential threat to the next mission the moment Rishard pronounced the words “Period Draper”. In the space of a nanosecond, 156 probable outcomes to the Meer project had been calculated excluding Guy Rishard’s presence. Each were very discouraging.

Rom Dingel renewed his concentration to the immediate task of repairing the Light Guide. In the midst of timing the ignition sequence, an optical alert signified an incoming page on the heads up display integrated to his test headset. Silently, he requested an identification of the calling party. The word “Custodian” appeared on his display. A mental command completed the call.

“This is Rom”. Rom transferred the activity of troubleshooting the ignition sequence from his conscious mind to that of the virtual processing units that augmented his physical brain. The male voice of the caller boomed into his head. He mentally adjusted the volume to a comfortable level. He glanced over at Guy to see him still busy inventorying the salvageable components from the Tutta Forza. As far as Guy could tell, Rom’s body was slumped over the main engine compartment of the small cruiser they acquired during their last project, his hands and eyes busy connecting test leads to the Light Guide in an attempt to restart its nuclear reactor. In actuality, Rom was completely consumed with what might the Custodian wanted by calling him directly. The last time he’d spoken directly to the Custodian was for an ass-chewing over the Treatise. He was sure there had been no mishaps in retrieving the Forza.

“Chabiaa here; how long will it be before the Forza is processed?

Rom waited for the transmit indicator turned green. Curious as to why the Custodian was speaking to him in the language of a remote area of a different universe, he hesitated for a moment. He immediately dismissed it as the Custodian’s prerogative. He continued in his native tongue.

“Awr redougj. Nectair sheit somm stech hormog”. The indicator change back to red.

“Good. That’s about 12 hours Minic Enise. Were there any survivors?

Still uncertain about the nature of contact, and why he was using english, Rom figured the Custodian might appreciate a bit of imitation.

“Six sir; two in pretty bad shape though. They were rescued an instant before their ship past through the Nod. We escorted the other twelve to the Prescence. But it was completely by the book sir. No significant abnormalities were recorded.”

“Don’t worry so much Rom, my information indicates you and Guy did one helluva job on this one. Matter of fact, your record since the Treatise has been excellent. Almost like you guys have something to prove. Six hundred recoveries have all been without any deviation from procedure. Learned a little from those miscalculations, did we?

Rom relaxed a little, relieved that the possibility of investigation might elude him. “Yes sir. The Treatise taught us a lot.”

“Good to hear. You’re probably curious as to why I’m speaking to you in English. Had your fill of recoveries yet?”

“Definitely sir.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’m sending you a new file as we speak. Wrap up what you’re doing and go over it in detail with Guy. I’ll see you here in 24 hours Minic Enise. We’ll discuss any concerns at that time. And Rom, if you’re not up to it I will understand. I won’t hold it against you one way or another. But I know how much you wanted this opportunity.

“Thank you sir. Ale speach ti nezrone.”

Rom’s HUD indicated ‘com path terminated’.

“What the hell am I in for now,” Rom’s thought electrified the HUD in a psychedelic color display usually reserved for activities of a sensual nature.