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Rated: E · Sample · Sci-fi · #2269787
To be... or not to be a space pilot or a low level grunt. Decisions decisions...
Swiping her pass key across the link light the door to her cabin slid open and closed right behind her. Pulling at her greasy clothing she undressed quickly, but her dark eyes followed a sealed data packet on the table. Leaning over to unstrap her boots and kick her coveralls off Dee could read the serial information across the magnetic seal through the curly brown hair hanging in her face. Blackened dirty fingers reached toward the packet and then hesitated. Shrugging it off, she picked up a half eaten breakfast bar brushed it off and shoved it in her mouth on her way to the shower. Scrubbing all the grime out of her hair and off her skin she tried not to think about the packet.



By the time she washed up the packet had set her thoughts on fire so she pulled on her only clean shirt and broke the seal on the packet. "They sent a packet, right? That's good, right? If I wasn't approved they'd just send a notice without any data, right?" she mumbled as she slid the packet into the reader. A bunch of numbers and scores scrolled over the screen and she frowned reading the last line. Every test those high minded blank eyed Corp clerks had given her and she had failed all of them. Well, all of them but one.



A smile worked on her face as she thought about what she had done. Never before in the history of history had someone cheated a testing as well as she had done for a dangerous job nobody wanted. But then who out there wanted to disappear as bad as she? They kept finding her. It was always going to be a problem unless she really did disappear. Corp could do that. A lot of people went in and became someone else. You got in, did your job for however long it took and then you came out with a new identity. It was time to really disappear for good.



When the door opened, she watched Jake. He came inside reading schematics and gave her a kiss without even looking up from them. Just like that he wandered over to the table mumbling about her eating the last bar he'd saved before going to the kitchen to find some sort of protein drink. Some days she wondered if he even saw her. He was responsible, thorough and on the fast track to a perfect future for an intellectual. He wanted to pilot. He wanted her to pilot. Pilot and copilot couple, making a pilot family for a pilot life. The thing was she was already a pilot and he was still studying. When the time came who was going to be in the copilot seat? Can't have two captains and only one ship, can you?



"Oh, a data packet came today for you." Jake spoke as he crunched on some dry cereal. "Is it your pilot's license test?"



"No." she said it quiet, uncertain then realized she was tired of quiet. There were a lot of places her ass was made to be but a copilot's seat wasn't one of them. "I applied for a job."



"Oh I'm so happy!" Jake actually looked up at her. She could see his blue eyes shining with excitement. "No more grease clogs in the drain or stains. I knew you applied for that shuttle job even when you said you didn't. I know you love your machines but you're too smart to work that hard down in the belly of this beast."



A shuttle jock? Like keep your trays in the upright position position? "No, I applied with the Mining Corp, off ship." That was that, simple enough.



Utter confusion crossed his face and he looked at her strangely. "Well, off ship would be different. Are you planning on flying tankers or running survey crews?"



"No. I'll be running the mining gear. I'll be a miner." she said it without enthusiasm. Better to have him believe her disappointment is for the both of them.



"Dee, it'll be fine. You can study up and get your pilot's license and stick right here on the cruises. We can move up together. Even if you want to try again with the Corp they don't allow retests for two years. You can study and see if you can get yourself on one of the survey flights. We can do this together. I just don't know why you went and applied without even talking with me." his voice became an endless barrage of understanding annoyance. Something she was far too used to hearing from her own family.



"I'm taking the job." she realized everything about this cushy existence was really starting to annoy her. The more Jake went on about her being too good for a lowly miner job, the more she realized it was more than perfect for her. All those fancy upgrades, provided living, small salary but nothing came out of her pocket so small she could afford.



"It's like slavery Dee, and a lot of them don't survive their first year!" Jake was yelling but it was all she could do to keep from laughing.



"Someone like me," she looked around at everything nicely clean and then looked at the pile of her filthy clothes. "I'm not made for this kind of life. I want to get dirty, I want to work hard. I like almost getting mangled by the watchtower gears. It's why I gamble and run the games in the back corridors of this ship. There's an element to danger, something raw and uncaged. I can't be a house kitten anymore."



Jake's mouth twisted sideways and he glared at her. "If you want danger just get your pilots, you don't need to die down a hole."



"I've had it." she looked away. "I took it months ago I just didn't want to tell you."



"Oh my God, Dee! Why?" he flopped in the chair and looked at her flabbergasted. "Who does that?"



"I don't want to be a pilot." she admitted.



For a long time he couldn't even look at her. "You want to be a miner." he finally said it staring away.



"No." she shrugged. "I don't want to be a miner either. But I want to race."



For a while Jake just sat like a stone statue, then he nodded. "Fine. You go and kill yourself for shit pay and I'll think of you now and then." He didn't say goodbye either. He wasn't the type. Jake was the sort of guy that just packed up and went, onward and upward. Even weeks later when she got to the Garis and stepped up to register on her first day as a miner she knew Jake was somewhere plugging away at a dream that seemed so typical.



"J4VA00SKM6, what's your name?" the drone of a computerized voice filtered fuzzily out of a speaker at her.



The answer seemed so clear. "Java." then she added. "Smith." Goodbye last life, hello new one.

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