Post by Grace Forjacks on Sept 9, 2009 0:05:23 GMT -6
Driving a spaceship was boring business, but necessary boring business. Grace had gotten it down to an art form after a decade of travelling. She'd even had her captain's chair changed so it could tilt back and let her slouch to her heart's content.
In a solid 75% of the screen, the stars were clearly visible, slowly sliding away as the Queen of Spades continued on her destination to Nox, now only a few days away. She paid a little attention to it, knowing the shipboard computer would alert her if anything came near (and yet the paranoid part of her keeping her eyes actually on the screen just in case it didn't). And in the last quarter of the screen was a video playing.
On screen, two robot brothers faced off against one another. Grace had seen the rock opera a million times, and here she was, watching it yet again. There was something about it that got her blood pumping. It was the perfect choice, just distracting enough to do away with boredom but not so distracting that she couldn't pay attention to other things.
Her door was open, and the music poured out of it, clearly audible to anyone across from her or standing in the hall. At an earlier time in the morning, or a later time of night, she would have closed the door. But at two in the afternoon, everyone was awake and those who weren't were probably smart enough to put in headphones.
She sung along to the one line idly, "They don't want to change this, they don't want a hero, they just want a martyr, a statue to raise."
Grace stopped and turned her attention back to the readings in front of her. They were making very good time, despite stopping for salvage. They might even arrive half a day early.
In a solid 75% of the screen, the stars were clearly visible, slowly sliding away as the Queen of Spades continued on her destination to Nox, now only a few days away. She paid a little attention to it, knowing the shipboard computer would alert her if anything came near (and yet the paranoid part of her keeping her eyes actually on the screen just in case it didn't). And in the last quarter of the screen was a video playing.
On screen, two robot brothers faced off against one another. Grace had seen the rock opera a million times, and here she was, watching it yet again. There was something about it that got her blood pumping. It was the perfect choice, just distracting enough to do away with boredom but not so distracting that she couldn't pay attention to other things.
Her door was open, and the music poured out of it, clearly audible to anyone across from her or standing in the hall. At an earlier time in the morning, or a later time of night, she would have closed the door. But at two in the afternoon, everyone was awake and those who weren't were probably smart enough to put in headphones.
She sung along to the one line idly, "They don't want to change this, they don't want a hero, they just want a martyr, a statue to raise."
Grace stopped and turned her attention back to the readings in front of her. They were making very good time, despite stopping for salvage. They might even arrive half a day early.
