Waterbug (First Draft)

Written for the Comic Character Story Design Challenge over at Gamasutra, inspired by a comment I made on this io9 post.

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INT: Waterbug Passenger's Cabin

The passenger's cabin of the Waterbug is pitch-black, except for the stars visible through the tiny window. From the rear of the ship, a loud crash is heard as the ship lurches violently. Councilman Robins unstraps himself and floated out of bed just before the alarms start.

The ship's automated alarm system begins blaring a warning.

Ship: Warning! Air recycler malfunction. Estimated oxygen remaining: One hour, twenty-four minutes.

The councilman quickly pulls on a simple jumpsuit -the microgravity equivalent of a bathrobe- and fumbles to a wall-mounted intercom.

Councilman: Uhh... captain...

The voice from the intercom is that of a young girl, Erika Stellane.

Erika: Everything's fine, counselor. Back to sleep.

Councilman: Flashing lights and blaring alarms keep me awake.

Erika: (muttered) Amazing you can sleep at all on Titan...

Councilman: What? Nevermind. Can I help? Engine room?

Using a series of rungs along the wall, Councilman Robins pulls himself out of his quarters.

Erika: Situation's really under control counselor...

Ship: Please locate the nearest alternative air supply. Warning...

INT: Waterbug Hallway

Councilman Robins pulls himself along the series of rungs, cables, and pipes that enable the passengers and one-child crew of the Waterbug to traverse the ship. A large transparent tube full of slimy green water also runs down the hallway.

Councilman: (muttered) Thank you. I regret that I have one, very minor first act to take care of. I humbly beg your forgiveness.

Ship: Warning! Air recycler malfunction. Estimated oxygen: One hour, eighteen minutes.

Councilman: It won't take long, and then I'll get right on all my campaign promises, but first: Impound the damn Waterbug. I'm sure we'll all agree that it should never fly again...

Ship: Please locate nearest alternative air supply.

Councilman Robins arrives at the door to the engine room. Signs around the door: “Ship's Playground: Swing at your own Peril. Management not responsible for grease stains, or plasma burns,” and, “You break it, I kick you for it in the afterlife... forever.”

INT: Waterbug Engine Room

Erika is floating off to the side of the engine room, near one of the smaller machines. Erika is a skinny, thirteen-year-old girl whose lankiness has only been exacerbated by spending the better part of the past four years in microgravity. She's dressed in a dirty, too-small jumpsuit and a pair of tinted goggles. Her hair is mostly short, brown, and tied up in a bun except for a few long bangs striped with pink dye. A pair of taut tethers attached to her belt hold her in place.

Clutching the wall not far away from her is Rangoon, her Europan first mate, a seven-limbed amphibious creature, like a giant crab.

Erika turns to face her first mate and holds both hands in front of her mouth, seven fingers hanging down like the seven tendrils that make up his mouth. She quickly gestures with her fingers, and the arthropod tosses her a tool.

Councilman: Are you sure I can't help?

Erika: Do you know anything about rerouting antimatter flux containment streams?

Robins stares at her for a moment. A smile cracks on Erika's face.

Councilman: That's meaningless technobabble, isn't it?

Erika: Guilty. Seriously, though, under control. Minor issue with the air scrubbers.

Councilman: So, no problem whatsoever?

Erika: No. No no no.. Eighteen percent chance.

Councilman: Eighteen percent chance... that the air scrubber'll blow?

Erika: That it won't. Don't look at me like that. Do you have any idea just how much traffic happens without functioning life support?

Councilman: Yeah. Unmanned vessels.

Erika: That's not all. There's also derelicts. Just last week, Rangoon and me...

Councilman: 'Rangoon'?

Erika: Crabby learned what 'crabby' meant... and ironically enough got very crabby about it. I should be able to call him Rangoon for a while though. He doesn't like Chinese take-out nearly as much as I do... Anyhoo, when this thing blows, I call dibs on the artificial gill. Those tubes have algae enough to keep Rangoon and me breathing comfortably for days.

Councilman: What about...

Erika: Last I checked, the EV-suits should have O2 enough for about 48 hours, if you ration. Hold your breath for one more day after that, and we'll be on Ganymede before you can make the interplanetary sign for choking!

Councilman: I can't believe this. I paid you to get me to Ganymede safely...

Erika: No. You said, “Quickly and discretely.” No mention of safety. You'd think safety would've been a priority, but I guess not. By Titanic law, I wouldn't be in breach of contract if you arrived belly-up, would I?

Councilman Robins has become visibly angry.

Erika: I know that look! Haven't seen you this angry since you lost my emancipation suit for my folks. Titanic law! Would any other court have emancipated a nine-year-old girl?

Councilman: That was a technicality you little...

A mischievous grin appears on Erika's face as Robins raises his hands, ready to strangle her.

Erika: Now now. Attacking me with Rangoon around will only hasten your asphyxiation...

Ship: Warning! Air recycler malfunction. Estimated breathable air remaining: Fifty-seven minutes. Please locate nearest alternative air supply.

Councilman: Oh God, it just hit me. I'm seriously about to suffocate, aren't I?

Erika nods, in mock reassurance.

Councilman: On a ship that's going to fall apart before I reach Ganymede.

Erika: Most likely...

Councilman: All because those damn mobsters wanted to meet in person to negotiate such a “high-level” hit.

Erika: (in mock surprise)Your opponent? No...

Councilman: I had to do something. Every damn poll...

Erika pulls herself into the machine she was working on. Something clicks, and the alarms die out.

Ship: Air recycler functioning normally.

Erika: Thought so. (She pushes herself back out of the machine, holding a small recording device) Now, if it's any consolation, all the hush money I'm sure you're going to be paying me will make your next trip on Waterbug a much more luxurious affair, complete with gravity, air, food that wasn't vaccuum-packed before I was born...