it had a destination programmed, plus there weren't any other crafts to worry about on the surface of Titan right now since everyone but a skeleton crew had returned to Earth for the Holidays.
How many times had she stared up at this same sky and marveled at the view? How many more times would it take before it got old? She hoped she would never know the answer to that question. The gentle gold of Saturn's surface was ever present like a muted eternal sun. The rings, with shades varied from the same gold of the planet's to a brown so dark it might've been black, swept across the planet's fluid surface.
As much as she hated being so far away from her family, she loved working on Titan. And not just because of the fantastic view. Her father had taught her all about machinery in such a way that she couldn't help but fall in love with it. Maybe it's an odd thing, to love pipes and gears and pistons, but the way everything worked together was perfection. Every piece, down to the washers and zip-ties, played an essential part in any machine. Everything worked together toward a certain goal and if it wasn't working, there was a reason that could be identified and fixed. It was clean, logical. Jenna liked that.
The apartment buildings flying by caught her attention and she watched them. Light shone from fewer windows than usual, but some of them featured sparkling colored lights, small artificial Christmas trees – she even spotted a menorah in one window.
The sudden darkness of the entry tunnel to the docks shook Jenna from her reverie. She dug through her purse as the Penguin cleared the first air lock.
A sigh escaped her lips when a hand mirror confirmed what she had feared. Climbing down to the hydraulic lines to test them had left as much grease smeared across her face and neck as was on her hands. Her clothes had been protected by the Tyvek jumpsuit, but everything outside of that was a different story.
As the second air lock opened, Jenna licked her fingers and tried to scrub away some of the grease, but the scrubbing just smeared the grease further across her cheek. What kind of pilot would take her on as a passenger when she looked like she had just crawled out of a grease trap? Hopefully, one who didn't have any issue with mechanics.
She stuffed the mirror back into her purse, giving up. Once she secured a spot on a flight, she'd run back to her apartment for a quick shower and to grab her already-packed suitcase. The orange-scented soap she had especially for removing grease would make quick work of the mess on her face, neck, and arms.
The Penguin automatically pulled into the next available parking spot and the engines whispered to a stop.
The Concourse for company and government vehicles was a shiny, white, sterile ghost town. No big shipments would come in or go out during the Holiday and all the passenger shuttles had already left.
Jenna speed-walked to the tunnel that would lead to the docks for private vehicles. She had seen the signs pointing that way dozens of times, but had never had any reason to walk through the tunnel. As soon as she got closer to the private Concourse than she was to the company Concourse, she knew why no one she worked with ever went down this way.
And why it was hidden from view.
Coming from the Company Concourse to the private one was like an elementary school lesson on the meaning of the word "contrast." While the former was clean, well-lit, and designed to ease passengers' traveling worries, this one was... functional.
But, Jenna thought, at least there were ships docked here. Five of them. In various states of disrepair. Fantastic.
In the middle of the concrete slab that apparently served any function that was needed, including storage, office space, and dining room, a group of men circled around a battered folding table littered with playing cards. They sat on metal lawn chairs, buckets, precariously balanced piles of pipe – whatever was available. More talking and
How many times had she stared up at this same sky and marveled at the view? How many more times would it take before it got old? She hoped she would never know the answer to that question. The gentle gold of Saturn's surface was ever present like a muted eternal sun. The rings, with shades varied from the same gold of the planet's to a brown so dark it might've been black, swept across the planet's fluid surface.
As much as she hated being so far away from her family, she loved working on Titan. And not just because of the fantastic view. Her father had taught her all about machinery in such a way that she couldn't help but fall in love with it. Maybe it's an odd thing, to love pipes and gears and pistons, but the way everything worked together was perfection. Every piece, down to the washers and zip-ties, played an essential part in any machine. Everything worked together toward a certain goal and if it wasn't working, there was a reason that could be identified and fixed. It was clean, logical. Jenna liked that.
The apartment buildings flying by caught her attention and she watched them. Light shone from fewer windows than usual, but some of them featured sparkling colored lights, small artificial Christmas trees – she even spotted a menorah in one window.
The sudden darkness of the entry tunnel to the docks shook Jenna from her reverie. She dug through her purse as the Penguin cleared the first air lock.
A sigh escaped her lips when a hand mirror confirmed what she had feared. Climbing down to the hydraulic lines to test them had left as much grease smeared across her face and neck as was on her hands. Her clothes had been protected by the Tyvek jumpsuit, but everything outside of that was a different story.
As the second air lock opened, Jenna licked her fingers and tried to scrub away some of the grease, but the scrubbing just smeared the grease further across her cheek. What kind of pilot would take her on as a passenger when she looked like she had just crawled out of a grease trap? Hopefully, one who didn't have any issue with mechanics.
She stuffed the mirror back into her purse, giving up. Once she secured a spot on a flight, she'd run back to her apartment for a quick shower and to grab her already-packed suitcase. The orange-scented soap she had especially for removing grease would make quick work of the mess on her face, neck, and arms.
The Penguin automatically pulled into the next available parking spot and the engines whispered to a stop.
The Concourse for company and government vehicles was a shiny, white, sterile ghost town. No big shipments would come in or go out during the Holiday and all the passenger shuttles had already left.
Jenna speed-walked to the tunnel that would lead to the docks for private vehicles. She had seen the signs pointing that way dozens of times, but had never had any reason to walk through the tunnel. As soon as she got closer to the private Concourse than she was to the company Concourse, she knew why no one she worked with ever went down this way.
And why it was hidden from view.
Coming from the Company Concourse to the private one was like an elementary school lesson on the meaning of the word "contrast." While the former was clean, well-lit, and designed to ease passengers' traveling worries, this one was... functional.
But, Jenna thought, at least there were ships docked here. Five of them. In various states of disrepair. Fantastic.
In the middle of the concrete slab that apparently served any function that was needed, including storage, office space, and dining room, a group of men circled around a battered folding table littered with playing cards. They sat on metal lawn chairs, buckets, precariously balanced piles of pipe – whatever was available. More talking and
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