The Hyacinth Disaster E2
The Hyacinth Disaster By David Carlson EPISODE 2
[after the Squealer static fades, comms power back up] CONTROL: [opens channel to all crew] Ok...Comms check in. All exos sound off. ARGUS: Exo 7 here. DREADNOUGHT: Exo 2 GRIMM: Grimm here. CONTROL: Confirmed. Blue? BLUE: All long comms are humming along. Well...figuratively. Humming is bad for comms. CONTROL: [close BLUE's channel] Finch? DREADNOUGHT: *teasing* Whoo hoo hoo! FINCH: Hey, Con. All systems are good. CONTROL: Confirmed. [close FINCH's channel]
DREADNOUGHT: She sounds in love, Con! CONTROL: Shut up, Dreadnought. Grimm? Argus? What's your data look like? GRIMM: Reading now… ARGUS: Wow. That looks pretty good! GRIMM: Yeah. Some promising figures here. ARGUS: Definitely something, Con! But the scans aren't very clear. CONTROL: So this is something? GRIMM: Looks like Saniss 1309 might not be worthless after all! ARGUS: Hell, yes! DREADNOUGHT: It's pronounced “sah-NEES” ARGUS: Is that even a greek name? DREADNOUGHT:
Do you know what the ratio of greek names to jovian objects is? ARGUS: ...Can't say that I do. DREADNOUGHT: It's like, 1 to 50,000, dude. CONTROL: I'm with Dreadnought. Saniss sounds greek. GRIMM: Says the Imperialist Nederlander. CONTROL: Hey, Greece asked us to take over. GRIMM: Oh, look at the big hero! After the US collapsed, what option did they have? CONTROL: Look, it's not like we ran in there and-- ARGUS: And hey! We're all working together to help our mutual friend by proving this rock is worth a lot of money! Togetherness! Yay! DREADNOUGHT: Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Until we get a clear reading it could mean anything. ARGUS: But this probably means we've got a goldierock, right? Right?? DREADNOUGHT:
I really can't say...but with these scans it's probably at least a class 6. ARGUS: It'll probably rise once we clear this up! Class 8 anyone? GRIMM: Hopefully. That'd be enough to force corporate's hand. CONTROL: Alright! Let's confirm. Can we clear this scan up, Dreadnought? DREADNOUGHT: Like I figured, the density's messing with the squealer, but I'll drill deeper. CONTROL: How long? DREADNOUGHT: I've already started, man. 2 minutes. CONTROL: Good. [close channel to all crew] [open FINCH's channel] Control to Finch? FINCH: Hey. CONTROL: Hey, Clever. How's the anchor? FINCH: Holding fine. CONTROL:
Good. FINCH: Should I be concerned? CONTROL: Dunno. Grissom's auto-release failed despite an inspection from station. FINCH: So the thing was supposed to break, and it didn't? CONTROL: Yup. Rock shifting at all? FINCH: Meh. One this big wouldn't be affected by the squealer much. CONTROL: Keep an eye on it. FINCH: But you're so handsome! CONTROL: Finch. FINCH: Ugh. Fine. CONTROL: Thanks. [close FINCH's channel] ARGUS: 7 to con.
CONTROL: [open ARGUS' channel] Go ahead, Argus. ARGUS: How's the ship? CONTROL: It's fine. ARGUS: Good, good. And how about comms? Comms ok? CONTROL: Comms are fine, too. Obviously. ARGUS: Sorry. All we need is a clear scan and that's it! Ember's as good as rescued! Gonna march into Corporate's offices and show those bastards a couple-- CONTROL: We have to confirm, Argus. ARGUS: This tension is killing me! CONTROL: I don't know! Sing a song or something. ARGUS: Actually, we have been working on a song. How about it guys? You wannt do the thing? CONTROL: OFF comms, Argus, thank you!
[close ARGUS' channel] DREADNOUGHT: (heavy distortion) 2 to Con. I'm ready. CONTROL: [open DREADNOUGHT's channel] Say again, Dreadnought? DREADNOUGHT: I SAID I'M READY! CONTROL: I read you now. How much deeper did you drill? DREADNOUGHT: About 50 meters. CONTROL: Confirmed. [open channel to all crew] All hands. Squealer is set to go again. Confirm. Exo 7, go? ARGUS: Go, Con. CONTROL: Exo 4, go? GRIMM: Go. CONTROL:
Exo 2, we are a go. DREADNOUGHT: Ready! ARGUS: Let's see what this rock's got for us! CONTROL: Everyone lock comms. 5, 4, 3… [comms power down] [Squealer activates, vicious radio interference] *pause* [comms power up] CONTROL: [open channel to all] Comms check. All exos sound off. ARGUS: (singing) Of all the money I've ever had, I spent it in good company... DREADNOUGHT: (joining the song with Argus) And all the harm I've ever done... GRIMM: No. ARGUS: Grimm! GRIMM: I'm not singing.
ARGUS: You were singing on the way here! GRIMM: The machinery was humming the perfect note, and it just happened. Don't try and make it happen. Besides, you both sounded way better before you had to squeeze into these damn suits. CONTROL: ...k. I guess that's all of you. Blue? BLUE: Blue here. Comms still good. Trying to think of a descriptor that works better than “humming” for comms. CONTROL: [close BLUE's channel] Finch? FINCH: Hey. All good. Tether still solid. CONTROL: [close FINCH's channel] What's the good news, guys? ARGUS: Just waiting for the little lights. Just sitting here, waiting... *pause* What's going on? GRIMM: You too?
ARGUS: Yeah. The hell? CONTROL: Shut up and tell me what's going on! ARGUS: There's nothing here! GRIMM: What he said. CONTROL: What do you...there was stuff on the last scan! DREADNOUGHT: It wasn't positive. Just probable. GRIMM: Argus and I both had it on our scanners! DREADNOUGHT: You don't know what you had. It wasn't a clear scan. GRIMM: But fuzzy should mean something is there! There's nothing! CONTROL: Calm down, Grimm. GRIMM: Don't tell me to calm down! We're out here for a dud! What's Ember gonna do now? DREADNOUGHT:
I'll drill more. GRIMM: The scans are empty, Dreadnought! DREADNOUGHT: We only know if we get a clear signal! Until then, there could be literally anything inside this rock! GRIMM: Or nothing! CONTROL: *pause* We're running out of time, Dreadnought. Make it fast. DREADNOUGHT: Already started, man! CONTROL: Alright, keep me updated. [close channel to all] GRIMM: Grimm to Con. CONTROL: [open GRIMM's channel] Con here. Go ahead, Grimm. GRIMM: We're staking a lot on Dreadnought. CONTROL: I know. And if we had any other way to help Ember, I'd take it. But we don't.
GRIMM: Are we gonna have time? CONTROL: If this turns out to be paydirt, we won't have to worry about taking over for the Grissom. GRIMM: And if it doesn't? CONTROL: When did you get so pessimistic? GRIMM: I'm just… CONTROL: Worried. Yeah, me too. GRIMM: *pause* How much damage you think we could do if we...you know…? CONTROL: I thought about it. I don't think we'd get anywhere near anyone important enough for Corporate to care. At least not without a lot more time to plan. GRIMM: ...And Temple probably won't wait that long. CONTROL: He might be bluffing about killing them. GRIMM: We wouldn't be out here if we thought he was.
CONTROL: Dammit! *smash* GRIMM: What?? CONTROL: Nothing. Just one of those spiders. GRIMM: Gaaah I hate those things! How do they even live on spaceships? CONTROL: I imagine eight legs is ideal in zero-g. GRIMM: Yeah, but what do they eat? CONTROL: ...I'm not sure I want to know. GRIMM: Good point. How big was it? CONTROL: Only about four inches. GRIMM: ...That is five inches bigger than I like a spider to be. CONTROL: Hehe yeah. It's good one of these never found its way into anything unpleasant. Like your suit. GRIMM:
Oh you son of a-- Gaaaaaah I can't handle this right now, I gotta go. [closes channel] CONTROL: [opens BLUE's channel] Blue? BLUE: Blue here. CONTROL: I'll take that coffee now, if you don't mind. BLUE: Sure thing. Vanilla? CONTROL: It's all swill. BLUE: All's swill that ends swill! CONTROL: ...What? BLUE: I don't know. I was going for something and I...lost it. CONTROL: *chuckles* You and Finch should hang out more, she'd like that one. BLUE: ...I'm good, thanks.
CONTROL: *pause* I'm sorry you feel that way. BLUE: Oh don't get all forlorny on me. I didn't even get a chance to meet her before you got serious. The week after I get back BOOM! You're married! CONTROL: You were on your first job with your own ship! BLUE: You could have told me. *pause* Have you told Mom? CONTROL: Are you kidding? She'd be all “When are you coming home? I want to meet her!” Besides it's not like you tell her anything either. BLUE: She doesn't need to know. CONTROL: Exactly! It's better she thinks we're working safe jobs for a good company who-- *alarms* *comms bursts into static* [BLUE's channel lost] CONTROL: What's going on? FINCH: Con, you there?
CONTROL: [opens FINCH's channel] Yeah. FINCH: I'm picking up a spike in seismic activity. CONTROL: Yeah, comms are going hinky too. FINCH: Uh. Communications and seismography have literally nothing to do with each other. CONTROL: Well, right now they do! FINCH: How bad? CONTROL: Let me check. [closes FINCH's channel, opens ARGUS' channel] Control to Exo 7, do you read me? ARGUS: Aye, Con. Loud, if not clear. CONTROL: Are your comms bugging you? ARGUS: Yeah, a bit. Why? CONTROL:
You feel the rock? Finch said she picked up some seismic activity. It seems to be affecting comms. ARGUS: Seismic? When was the last time you were on an active asteroid? CONTROL: Never, except the usual jolts from the squealer on a small rock. ARGUS: Huh. Well I don't feel anything. CONTROL: I'll check with Dreadnought. ARGUS: Aren't his comms already bad? CONTROL: And that's why I asked you first. [closes ARGUS' channel, opens DREADNOUGHT's channel] Control to Exo 2, Dreadnought, copy? DREADNOUGHT: Dreadnought here. What's gotcha? CONTROL: Are you feeling this? DREADNOUGHT: The rock shivering? Yeah, man. Squealer usually doesn't have that much effect on this big a rock, but I'll be careful. Meanwhile, I'm set for another try. CONTROL: Hold on.
[closes DREADNOUGHT's channel, opens FINCH's channel] Clever? I mean...Control to Finch? FINCH: Hey. CONTROL: Dreadnought says he felt the shakes, but comms are ok. FINCH: I'll keep up with it. CONTROL: Confirmed. [opens channel to all crew] Alright, everyone. One more time. Confirm we are go for-- GRIMM: Maybe we should just jump to it, yeah? ARGUS: Agreed. CONTROL: It's on you. Dreadnought, we're ready. DREADNOUGHT: Yup. CONTROL: Lock comms. 5, 4, 3… [closes channel to all crew] [comms power down] *static as the Squealer goes off* [comms power up]
CONTROL: [opens channel to all crew] Comms check. All exos. ARGUS: Argus. I'm good. GRIMM: Grimm here. Did anyone else feel that? ARGUS: I felt the shaking. Is that what you're talking about? GRIMM: Squealer shouldn't affect a rock this big, right? Dreadnought?
*pause* Dreadnought? Damn his radio. DREADNOUGHT: (Distorted) Dreadnought here! I heard you, dude. I was saying I got a lot of shivering here. I dunno what's up. CONTROL: Alright, well let's keep an open channel hereonout. Better safe. GRIMM: More importantly, my sensor's still blanking. Argus? ARGUS: Same. DREADNOUGHT: Lemme dig more. I'm not at the limit yet.
GRIMM: *pause* This is a dud. ARGUS: Grimm might be right you guys... DREADNOUGHT: Hell with that! I just need to get through this dense part and we're all gonna be rich! GRIMM: It's not even about us getting rich, asshole! DREADNOUGHT: I know! ...shit. Sorry! GRIMM: The rest of us are trying to keep people from getting killed, and you're thinking about money! I've half a mind to bury you here. DREADNOUGHT: Ok! I get it, dude! You saps want to save your friends! Sure, that's great, but people die out here all the time. I've lost a few myself, and I'm not gonna let myself care too much about people I don't even know! CONTROL: Dreadnought… DREADNOUGHT: Yeah, I want money. I want out of this job so I don't end up caught or killed too. If that makes me an asshole, whatever. But we've got the same motivation. GRIMM: Like hell we do!
DREADNOUGHT: We both need money! Who cares why? Now are we gonna finish? or slink back to station because a stupid argument kept us from getting the job done? Hate me all you want, but you've only got a chance because of me. And buddy, there aren't gonna be more chances. CONTROL: We've only got a few minutes left. ARGUS: Yeah, but he's right. CONTROL: Grimm? GRIMM: Ah dammit. CONTROL: Alright. Start drilling again, Dreadnought. ARGUS: He's been drilling this whole time. DREADNOUGHT: Yup! GRIMM: I hate this guy. DREADNOUGHT: I'm getting a lot of love in your voice though, Grimm! GRIMM: Your radio's busted!
ARGUS: Eh, we've dealt with worse. Remember when we were working on the Invid? GRIMM: That was a damn good ship! ARGUS: Sure but comms kept blacking out for no good reason. GRIMM: I kinda liked it: cut comms meant no cameras. Captain Mack was set on us using our POV's. CONTROL: That's standard, Grimm. GRIMM: You don't make us. CONTROL: That's because our first three rocks were spent listening to you moan about how creeped out you were. GRIMM: I'm sorry, it's creepy knowing someone's looking through my perspective all the time! ARGUS: *pause* You know, you're really weird, Grimm. DREADNOUGHT: Do you guys ever stop talking GRIMM: Shut up and drill, Dreadnought!
DREADNOUGHT: Shockingly, I can do both, especially when the quality of equipment is worth discussing. CONTROL: Wait, what do you mean? DREADNOUGHT: I just don't want to lose contact. This suit has gotta be older than me. ARGUS: You're not far wrong. I think yours is military. DREADNOUGHT: Great. Just great. So I'm using an exo that's more than two decades old. ARGUS: Yup! If it makes you feel any better, mine's almost as old. DREADNOUGHT: I thought they took everything when they left. CONTROL: Companies bought everything the military would sell. Contractors bought off them. And there was all kinds of crap left in the scramble. Whole ships, even, if you could find them in deep space. DREADNOUGHT: I'll bet one of those would be a pretty good haul for Corporate, huh? ARGUS: Not really. You can take any small rock and make a few new ships out of that. Corporate isn't worried about super-old derelicts. CONTROL:
And nobody else'd have the resources to get them spaceworthy again. DREADNOUGHT: I've got a shaky exosuit that agrees with you. CONTROL: Speaking of shaky, is the rock still-- DREADNOUGHT: Nah. CONTROL: [opens FINCH's channel] Finch? FINCH: Hey, Con! CONTROL: How's seismic looking, Clever? FINCH: Normal. I'll let you know if anything changes. DREADNOUGHT: Question. CONTROL: Go ahead, Dreadnought. DREADNOUGHT: Do they call you “Con,” as in “Control”? Or as in “Conlin”? FINCH: Yes.
DREADNOUGHT: That's confusing. FINCH: That too. DREADNOUGHT: Uh huh. I'll be done in a sec. Standby. CONTROL: [plays Temple's transmission again] “This is Eric Temple, commander of the Lykaon frigate Tesseract, to the Station commander at Halaesus Mining Company. The date is August 13. The time is 01:13 zulu. I'm transmitting this from just off the asteroid-- BLUE: [enters the bridge and moves toward CON] Will you stop watching that?! CONTROL: Sorry. [turns off transmission] BLUE: Here you go. CONTROL: Bedankt. *pause* *fumbling* These stupid straws never go in the...there we go. DREADNOUGHT: Say again, Con?
CONTROL: Nothing. Blue brought me coffee. GRIMM: Ugh. Stuff tastes like nuclear runoff. CONTROL: I hear some people are into that. DREADNOUGHT: Shut up. I'm trying to finish up here. CONTROL: Sorry. What's your depth? DREADNOUGHT: 263 meters. CONTROL: Are you through that dense bit yet? DREADNOUGHT: No. And my limit's 300. GRIMM: Three hund--That's it?? Why are we even bothering?? DREADNOUGHT: Conlin wouldn't let me check out my good stuff! CONTROL: You know that'd be a dead giveaway. DREADNOUGHT: Yeah but Baby's First Drill here isn't giving the squealer much to work with.
ARGUS: At least your exo isn't falling apart. DREADNOUGHT: No, just my radio! 280 meters. Still too dense. GRIMM: Damn! ARGUS: Come on! DREADNOUGHT: *pause* 290. Come on come on comeon comeon *pause* Son of a--! GRIMM: What happened? CONTROL: What?? What?? DREADNOUGHT: ...well. That's as far as it goes. CONTROL: Still dense? DREADNOUGHT: ...Ish? I dunno, man. GRIMM: Come on, let's go!
CONTROL: Alright. Uh, is everyone sure you're calibrated right? ARGUS: Just hit the button! CONTROL: We should probably make sure is all I'm saying! ARGUS: Just hit the button! CONTROL: Really? Sure let's just ignore the Captain's concerns! ARGUS: Hit the button! Just hit the button! GRIMM: Press the button, Con! CONTROL: FINE! I'll hit the button! Lock comms! 5, 4, 3… [comms power down] [static bursts as the Squealer goes off] [comms power back on, accompanied by heavy static and distortion] FINCH: Finch to Con. These shakes are getting dicey! Tether's really straining out there! CONTROL: Confirmed. Comms aren't sounding great, either. [opens channel to all crew]
Comms check. Exos sound off! *static* Argus? Dreadnought?
Grimm? Come in! *static* [close channel to all crew] Blue?? BLUE: Blue here! CONTROL: You're standing right next to me! BLUE: Sorry! Habit. And tension. Mostly ten-- CONTROL: Take that console and help me tune this crap out! BLUE: Got it! CONTROL: *pause* Come on, come on, Blue! BLUE: *pause* Try now! CONTROL: [open channel to all crew] All exos, report! *static, then voices are heard* Argus? Dreadnought?
GRIMM: ...you getting this?? Argus, are you getting these numbers?? ARGUS: YES! It's fireworks here, Con! Sensors are going crazy! GRIMM: Confirm! Confirm! I'm picking up massive deposits! It's lighting up like Vegas! BLUE: Yeeeeess! We did it! We did it! CONTROL: Hear that, Clever?? BLUE: I could kiss somebody right now! FINCH: Sure did! We did it! GRIMM: Soon as Corporate sees these scans, they'll be begging us for the coordinates! ARGUS: There's deposits of everything here! Motherlodes of motherlodes! If we netted this thing ourselves we could make the ransom money in a day. CONTROL: Yeah, well Temple isn't going to wait that long. GRIMM: Agreed: let's stick to the plan. Temple wants an ungodly amount of money, so we use this info to make Corporate pay to release Ember. CONTOL:
Right. BLUE: Like they should have done from the first minute! It's in the freaking contract! What are we? We're contractors! It's in our freaking name! CONTROL: Blue… BLUE: And it's not even about us! Ember and her crew had the same contract! CONTROL: Blue… BLUE: Where if “any crew members should be apprehended by hostiles while carrying out their orders, Halaesus Mining Co and its affiliates will do its utmost to--” CONTROL: Blue! BLUE: I'm sorry I just want to strangle everyone in Corporate with gigantic cakes! Made of ricin! GRIMM: *pause* I move we leave Blue on the ship when we have our little chat with corporate. BLUE: Hey! ARGUS:
I second this motion. BLUE: I'm venting! FINCH: Was that one, Grimm? GRIMM: No, Finch. I told you, you'll know one when you hear it. CONTROL: What? GRIMM: Never mind. Point is, we need corporate to pay up, not keel over. They're the only people with enough money to pay the ransom. Or really any amount worth mentioning. ARGUS: No, no no. Not any more! You're right, Dreadnought: we're getting Corvus back and walking away rich! CONTROL: Let's keep focused and not get greedy. ARGUS: Con, you don't understand. This is the most valuable rock since 16-Psyche a hundred years ago! Corporate will give us anything for a class-A goldierock like this! GRIMM: “A” isn't a rock class. ARGUS: It's a figure of speech.
GRIMM: You're a figure of speech. ARGUS: Your Mom's a figure of speech! GRIMM: What does that even mean?? CONTROL: Guys, let's get moving! Argus, your exo still good? ARGUS: I just want it to be clear that his mom really is a figure of speech. CONTROL: Argus! ARGUS: Patch is holding. CONTROL: I don't want to risk anymore. Grab your gear and get back here ASAP. Let Grimm help Dreadnought with the equipment. ARGUS: You sure that's a good idea, Con? I'd hate for Grimm's face to be the last sight of Dreadnought's life. CONTROL: Nah. Grimm's cool. Right, Grimm? GRIMM: Guess I'm just everyone's lackey today, but yeah, I'm good. Jetpack rescue squad is on its way.
ARGUS: If you feel so strongly about it, trade exos with me next time. I'll take Argusdeath for a spin, you do...whatever it is you do. GRIMM: There's never gonna be a next time, moron! As soon as we see the Corvus and her crew back, I'm leaving for inner system and fat living! ARGUS: Oh right! I'm rich now! God, this is fun! It's gonna take awhile to get my head wrapped around this. GRIMM: I think you'll learn to live with it. CONTROL: Let's move, people! The sooner we get back, the sooner Corvus flies home! ARGUS: Just packing up. GRIMM: I'll be there in 5 mikes, Dreadnought. *Pause* Dreadnought? CONTROL: Control to exo 2. Dreadnought, copy? *pause* *radio static* Damn. ARGUS: What's going on?
CONTROL: His radio finally gave out. Can you see him? GRIMM: No, but he was 5 klicks away in a crater. I'll jet down there and find out what's up. Are you picking up his vitals? CONTROL: That's comms, too. GRIMM: Right. I'm on my way. Gods he's gonna have a smug grin on his face… ARGUS: Let him, man. When we're twisting Corporate's arm in a few hours, we're all gonna have the same grin. BLUE: And ricin cakes! GRIMM: No, Blue! Nobody will be eating ricin in any form! But, fair enough, Argus. [closes channel] CONTROL: Finch? FINCH: Hey? CONTROL: How's the tether looking? FINCH:
Anchor's had to burrow a bit, but it's stable. Not getting any more activity at the moment. Whatever the squealer did, it's calm now. CONTROL: Argus is on his way. FINCH: Yeah I'm still on the channel. Should be safe to climb the tether, Argus. Don't forget to watch the snaggy bit halfway up. ARGUS: I thought you fixed that! FINCH: Well… ARGUS: And the servo on my suit! FINCH: We didn't exactly have a lot of downtime since our last shift. ARGUS: We're in SPACE! Everything wants to kill you in space! The last thing I need is for stuff to start breaking on me! ...more than it usually does! FINCH: Sue me. ARGUS: Well now that I could get eleventy billion dollars... FINCH: Greedy. CONTROL:
Alright, that's enough chatter. Argus, what's your ETA? ARGUS: Two minutes. CONTROL: Finch, would you mind meeting him at the airlock and helping him out of that piece of junk? FINCH: Sure. CONTROL: And then dump it into space. We don't need it anymore. ARGUS: Yes! That's what I'm talking about! Can I hit the button? FINCH: Can I pack it with C4 first? ARGUS: BOOM! You can pack it with my lucky C4 first, if I can hit the button! FINCH: It's a deal at that. GRIMM: Con. ARGUS: Glad we can be friends again. FINCH:
There's no problem in the world that can't be solved with the proper application of high explosives. ARGUS: That's what I'm saying! GRIMM: CON! CONTROL: Ah, sorry. [opens GRIMM's channel] Go ahead, Grimm. You with Dreadnought yet? ARGUS: Tell him he can blow up exo 2 if he wants! FINCH: Boom! CONTROL: *pause* Grimm? Grimm, how's Dreadnought? GRIMM: He's gone. END
