The Silent Thoughts of Whittenoom

Goinard, Concord Bureau Station, 11:54am 22/11/111YC


The metal plated floor vibrated as the giant overhead crane slowly swung itself around in a huge arc, gently moving towards the Myrmidon Class Battlecruiser ‘Theory Over Logic’, floating in the artificial gravity well below. The crane slowly lowered its cargo onto a large moveable palette, surrounded by dozens of dockworkers all ensuring the safe delivery. Eventually, the crane grinded to a halt and the workers flurried around the palette, clipping and unclipping various ropes and hooks. They all parted as a large vehicle, resembling a forklift inched closer and closer, pulling the palette onto the vehicle it raised the container and placed it onto a conveyor belt, where several more dockhands were waiting. The forklift reversed and moved off towards another palette waiting to be loaded. The container slowly slid inside the large belly of the ship and soon it disappeared into darkness.

A few 100 meters further up was a platform where several dock mechanics, connected by harness’s attached to a large overhead beam, worked precariously on the side of ship. Panels of metal sat on the platform, revealing the innards of the vessel. Several large boxes also sat on the platform containing various repair materials.

A further 100 or so meters up was another platform, several dockworkers walked around the exterior of the vessel, pointing at plates and possible things wrong. At least four of them carried a data pad in their hand, tapping away and nodding whenever they were spoken to. One of them, a tall Achurian man, walked over towards Whittenoom, who was standing, watching the crew work on her ship.

The Achurian man stopped as he reached Whit. His face had small smudges of dirt and oil covering his skin, his dark blue overalls had been rolled up at the bottom to accommodate his height.
He extended his left hand towards her, which she gently took.

“Ms Whittenoom.” He spoke, releasing her hand.

“Mr Cédolin. How is the overhaul going?” Asked Whittenoom, looking out towards ’Theory Over Logic’ resting her gloved hands on the rail.

“On schedule, no hiccups so far, however the delivery time on one palette is off by a few days. Hopefully once we have it, it will only be a matter of hours to complete the task.” He stated, looking at the data pad as he spoke.

“Very well. I’m sure a few days delay won’t be much of an inconvenience, it will give me time to sort some other things out. Thank you, Julian. ” She smiled, not at all flustered about the possible delay.

Mr Cédolin bowed in farewell and turned on his heel, walking back towards the platform of the inspection crew. His figure soon becoming unrecognisable as he melted into the crowd. Whittenoom smiled, and turned away, pulling her grey trench coat; emblazoned with both the Ghost Festival and Naraka logo on her right sleeve around her as she walked into the crowd.