Then he reached up and felt for the small metal plate. He traced his fingers around the edges of it. Probably the right size, he thought. He paused there for a moment. If the numbers weren’t raised he’d probably die in the dark.
He brushed his fingers across the plate and felt nothing. He concentrated, held himself in place by pushing his left hand against the inner hull above the padding and very carefully touched the plate again, but still nothing. Just smooth, cold, metal.
So that’s it, he thought. I’m going to die here.
He let out a deep breath and started kicking against the padding until he felt a tug on the tube sticking into his penis. He grabbed the line and gave it a gentle pull, considered another yank to finally be rid of the catheter, but couldn’t go through with it.
He thrashed around a bit more, screamed into the darkness. He pushed on the pads as hard as he could, until his arms started to shake and his head pressed deep into the headrest. And just when his muscles started to burn he felt something give.
The headrest bent back a little. So he turned and grabbed either side of it and pulled with both hands. It moved again. He started wrenching it back and forth until it moved even more. One metal brace broke off with a satisfying CRACK. It was a joyous sound. So he worked the other brace, torquing the headrest up and down until the metal sheared off and he held the prize in his hands and yelled triumphantly.
“Stick that up your hole, you shiteheads!” he yelled into the darkness. He enjoyed hearing the wild, tired voice coming out of his body. “I’m still alive!”
And then, breathing heavily, still clutching his prize, he relaxed, floating in the pitch black, and listened to the sound of the air moving in and out of his body. He knew he’d just wasted oxygen, but didn’t care.
After a few minutes his breathing slowed and the muscles in his chest and arms stopped burning, and he felt something jabbing the back of his head. He turned and reached out with his hands so he could find it.
It was the remains of the headrest brackets. One was pointed straight back and he was glad he didn’t poke himself in the eye. Even though eyes are fairly useless in this can, he thought. He carefully bent down the pointy end so it was more or less flush with the hull and he wouldn’t lose a worthless eyeball.
When he’d gotten it down far enough his hand brushed against something else. He steadied himself again and carefully reached out with his fingers. It was a rectangular section of metal with raised numbering.
It was the ID plate.
“I knew you were an old boat!” he yelled.
The Federation used the common old Earth Roman alphabet, but there were several other common writing systems in use, especially in the outer trade port realms.
He felt the first letter with the tip of his index finger. It traced a perfect letter R. Then an A, followed by a C, and then a string of numbers and letters: 94628X-w725.76. He kept reading with his fingers excitedly, and only when he came to the last number did he worry that he might not remember them all.
Computer, identify space craft, one-man, with id RAC94628X-w725.76, he thought, surprised he hadn’t forgotten anything.
Racine Mark 7 Long-Range Podship, the computer replied.
Give me the overview.
The Mark 7, manufactured in the outer Racelle rim during the early 2300s, was used mainly for large trading vessels, and was designed to accommodate Racellian occupants, with retrofitting available for humanoids under 2 meters.
Now give me the technical specs.
The Mark 7 is 8.24 meters long with an outer radius of 3.78 meters, utilizing a single, modified Barr-Stien hollow thruster, can make 7 jumps on a single charge cell.
Computer, how do you turn on the lights in a Mark 7 escape pod? He closed his eyes, even though he couldn’t see anything, took a few deep breaths.
The Mark 7 accepts a rudimentary set of verbal commands. Say “lights on” to turn on lights.
That’s it? the man thought. I’ve been in darkness for two weeks and all I had to say was lights on?
“Lights on!” the man screamed.
And nothing. Still black. Oh, shite, he thought. I’m a blind humanoid.
Computer, what language sets does the Mark 7 accept?
Default language is New Raceli. Though other language chips can be added.
How do you say ‘lights on’ in New Raceli?
Denki tsukerion.
The man took another deep breath, and this time didn’t close his eyes. He paused for a moment. Don’t start kicking again if this doesn’t work, he told himself.
“Denki tsukerion,” he said.
There was a bright flash and suddenly he was blinded, this time by white. He closed his eyes, but the light still came through. He could see orange through his eyelids. “Computer, we got orange!” he screamed aloud. After a few moments his eyes adjusted and he slowly opened them again and saw his hands for the first time. They were large and strong. The left hand was scarred, the right had burn marks.
Suddenly he was full of energy and hope. Even though his living space wasn’t much more than a C-tube, there was too much to take in. He was surrounded by
