The Force of Temptation - Chapter Two, Page Eight

Heading out of the small room, Malcolm found himself exceedingly hungry. He had trained hard, and because of his loss, his spirits were low. He had lost the simulation in very rare occasions, but this time dashed his confidence pretty strongly. Giving himself a mental pat on the back, he proceeded to head towards the mess hall.

The long sweeping corridor was fairly empty, as the shift rotation would only have eight people on their living cycle. There were three eight man shifts, with one shift working, another sleeping, and another with free time. They changed every eight hours and it worked well enough for maintaining the ship. In a combat situation, everyone could be called to man their stations, with a Yellow status only requiring those off duty to report in, and a Red status requiring everyone to report in.

The Captain wondered how his staff would perform when push came to shove, and they were in a situation that called for everyone to man their posts. He made a mental note that a drill should be set up to test the potential situation.

Arriving at the mess hall, he took a seat near the viewport. There were only two other officers in the mess eating their meals. They must have known each other as they were eating together, and laughing. Malcolm recognized them both from the engineering department. He had become an expert in the names, faces, ranks and background data files on each member of his crew.

Matthew Orilla was a young ensign, fresh from the aeronautics training facility, and Sarah Grispen was three months younger and already a lieutenant junior grade. Both were strong members of the crew, but also very green behind the gills. They were one of the few, like himself, that were born and raised on Earth. More than half of his crew had been born on Earth’s Moon, or Mars, and all but five had been raised for more than ten years off of Earth. It was a stunning statistic that was now all too common with regards to space exploration and innovation. Earth, despite providing the financial backing for the expedition, had to demand some Earth-only crew be assigned to the Solum and her sister ship.

A small food dispenser on the table pushed out a covered tray with a nicely sectioned off balanced meal. There was a meat product, reconstituted powdered vegetables, and some sort of mashed fruit. His drink, a soy beverage popped up next. It was coffee flavoured, which meant it would taste like the bottom of his boot, but it was the only flavour that included caffeine, a strange decision that Malcolm didn’t question. He just wanted a boost of energy and focus.

He drank back the drink in little more than a single swig, quickly swallowing before placing a piece of the meat product in his mouth. It tasted like salt with a bit of hamburger and bacon flavouring. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t anything like the farm grown meat that his parents had raised and given him from time to time.

The vegetables tasted bitter, and the fruit mash was sweet. Slowly taking in his food, he contemplated the meals he enjoyed back on Earth. The Solum was only equipped to store two years of food, properly rationed. Nearly everything was stored as frozen solid blocks, or powered products to which water would be added to during the preparation process. He missed real fruit and real vegetables, something that only the wealthier families could afford, and something he tried to treat his family with a few times a year. Synthetics never tasted as high quality as the ones Mother Nature produced.

Finishing his meal, it was time to check in with the E.S.S. Tundra, the larger ship perusing the same mission. He tried to check in with the Captain of the Tundra once every week, in hopes that she would have good news related to their seemingly futile task.

Placing the meal back into the receptacle, he took his leave of the mess hall without talking to anyone. It was a lonely meal, and he much preferred eating with Commander Dryerson, but the Commander’s duty was to the bridge, despite the lack of interesting work to complete.

Heading back to his quarters he ran into Lieutenant Jones who happened to be looking for the Captain. “Good evening, sir. Mind if I trouble you for a second? I have a few ideas that might help us in our mission.”

William Jones had spent nearly all of his free time in the engine room learning every inch of it, and trying to find a way to just “do more”. He was assigned the duty of Chief Engineer because of his eagerness, despite only being twenty-three. With Malcolm approaching his forty-third birthday, William looked like a child to him.

“I am heading to my quarters to check in with ‘Tex’, but feel free to accompany me until I get there.”

‘Tex’ was the nickname given to Andrea Wilkinson, a Mars colonist’s daughter given command over the Tundra. Her accent was so thick, and reminded Malcolm of people from the Texan district of the Americas.

“I was thinking that if we fabricated a condenser pipe on the second direct injection, we could get an increase, according to my simulations by,” William brought up the figures on his pad as quickly as possible, “twelve percent. It isn’t much, but it could mean an increase in speed and less energy usage by the engines.”